Saturday, November 22, 2014

Josephine's home in what is now suburban Paris truly gives the feeling of having been hers. From the decor to the flower gardens, the furniture and appointments, the house is a glorious example of Directorate and Imperial decor.

But it tells you about the feeling conveyed by what we Anglophiles call the period, the Regency. The colors are muted, pastoral, juxtaposed by splashes of vermilion, encrusted in gold filigree.

I showed you one pillar from the lobby and parts of Josephine's reception room or Music Room. Here I give you tastes of more.
(Do please note these are my pictures and while they may not be professional grade, please do cite them as my copyright, should you download and use them.)

Seating in one part of her large and inviting Music Room

Napoleon's bedroom made to look like a military tent!

Portrait of Josephine

Josephine's Boudoir with her dressing table

Josephine's Bathing room where she bathed, dressed andoccasionally ate because it was so warm in here!

One set of gold plated serving ware created for the Empress and Emperor, bequeathed to Josephine's son, Eugene.The service, passing down through generations of Eugene's descendants, wound up in Russia prior to WWI.Between the two world wars, the owners sold the set back to the State of France.

Josephine's gardens, famous when she was alive for their beauty, astonish visitors still today. The French government cares for the property, employing landscapers and gardeners. Here, even in mid-October, we see one of her rose bushes in beautiful bloom.

Today a trip to Rueil-Malmaison on the RER from Paris is a joy. The town retains the charm of its former smaller self and Josephine's house is tucked into a corner of it, a bit of a walk from the train station but worth it on a fine day.

What I came away with was a feeling of how much Josephine enjoyed the house, how she relished the gardens and how she lavishly entertained. It is a fine credit to her that she had the foresight to leave the house and its contents to her son and that he tried, as did the family and subsequent non-family owners, to keep the possessions in tact. Though time and wars took their toll and many of the items in the house are now "claimed" from the palace at Saint Cloud or the Tuileries, the house is a marvelous representation of the Empress's personality and taste.

Friday, November 21, 2014

The
latest installment in the Naked Cowboys series
is now up for preorder and goes live November 25. To celebrate, here’s a recap
of the first four books and a teaser for the new one.

Stark Naked

Reenie Davenport learned the hard way that men are
cheating, promotion-thieving poison. A month after making a fresh start in
Texas, she looks forward to taking a breather at her old college friend Amy’s
family ranch. Instead, she’s left breathless when Amy’s very drunk, very sexy,
very naked brother lands at her feet. Even as she hardens her heart, a small
part of her wishes that quickly tossed towel would shift…just a little.

When Matt Stark shows up at Reenie’s door to
apologize, he can barely squeeze a word past her emotional barriers. Suddenly
nothing else matters except convincing her not all men are clones of her ex.
Sweet-talking her into lunch is only the beginning.

One touch, and boom! Much to
Reenie’s dismay, lunch ends in a hot, flaming dessert—in her bed. Shutting Matt
out isn’t as easy as simply blowing out a match. Especially since this cowboy
is equally determined to unlock her heart.

Buck Naked

Amy Stark has it all
together—except for chronic bad taste in men. She’s firmly in hands-off-all-men
mode when a flat tire forces her to accept the help of exactly the type of man
she’s sworn off. Arrogant, cocky and condescending.

When she runs into him again
later that day and then finds out her brother has invited him for dinner, the
fire between them has a sizzle of a different kind.

At eighteen, Buck Montgomery
left home to make his mark on the bull-riding circuit. He may have had wild
success in rodeo but his personal life is in the dust, and while he’s ready to
start a new life he’s wary to expose his heart. Buck knows he should tell Amy
the truth, but every time he opens his mouth, hers is right there with kisses
like molten lava.

When his past resurfaces at the worst possible time, Buck can only
wonder if Amy will love the man he has become…or if the man he was will chase
her away.

Stripped Naked

Taking over as publisher of The
Hill Country Herald was supposed to help Jinx Malone put her personal and
professional disasters in New York behind her. Instead, she’s barely settled at
her desk when news of a murder hits the police scanner.

Who knew Rowan County could be
this exciting? And who knew her first story would bring her into head-butting,
hormone-pumping contact with something that’s an even bigger pain in her ass
than a cheating ex—a know-it-all cop?

Sheriff Dillon Cross thought
retreating to Rowan Country would help him get over a bad case of burnout. But
only a few weeks into his job, he’s standing over a dead body in a ditch,
arguing with his least favorite thing: a sexy, in-your-face reporter.

Before they’re through buzzing around each other like angry hornets,
the last thing either expected happens. They’re in bed, burning up the sheets.
But is it a new beginning, or just a bad rerun of past mistakes?

Bare Naked

Tired of the devious twists and turns of the
corporate world, Georgie Zielinski takes her savings and her 401K to little
Saddle Wells, Texas where she has bought a closed, rundown Bed & Breakfast.
Using her knowledge of years in the hospitality business she plans to rehab the
place and open her own B&B. Cade Hannigan was once on top of the world and
disgustingly arrogant about it. Now he has fallen to the bottom of the barrel,
working as the janitor at the Lone Star Bar and drinking himself to sleep every
night.

Cade loses his job at the exact moment that
Georgie needs a handyman to help her with the B&B. They are a most unlikely
pair, the world weary blond and the down and out cowboy, but electric sparks
fly between them. As they work to bring to life the old building to life,
something sexually explosive grows between them. Then Cade’s past comes back to
slap him in the face and it all falls apart.

It will take more than hot sex to put this
couple back together. Come take a wild ride with a hot blonde and the latest
naked cowboy.

One click takes you to all of the above:

AMAZON

And now……

Naked Desire

In Saddle Wells, she hopes to build a
business—and maybe a new life—on the strength of that recipe. But she’s totally
unprepared for her sizzling attraction to the artisan carpenter her new friends
send her way. Jesse Orosco is ready to roll up his sleeves to renovate Cyn’s
storefront, but it’s the self-doubt lurking in her beautiful eyes he wants to
tackle first. The five-foot-nothing red-headed dynamo makes his mouth water,
and not just because of the tantalizing aromas drifting from the back of her
shop.The buzz about the rub’s
mysterious ingredient has customers lining up for more, and soon everyone who
tries it is making beautiful music in the bedroom—including Cyn and Jesse. But
her reluctance to go public with their relationship—and someone in town with a
jealous bone to pick—could drive a wedge between Cyn and her smoking-hot cowboy.

Wednesday, November 19, 2014

You put LADY VARNEY in your TBR pile and she became a big seller. You bought RENDEZVOUS WITH A DUKE and put him at #15 and #2 on various best seller lists. THEN you bought the box set of THE STANHOPE CHALLENGE, Regency Quartet, for 99 cents and made them #2 (to date on Amazon) and put me on the Top 100 Best Historical Fiction authors list!!!

Color me grateful I could bring you hours of pleasure!

Now?

Drum roll!

Here is the cover reveal of #3 in the series starring Victor Cameron, MASQUERADE WITH A MARQUESS!

Tuesday, November 18, 2014

There is that sublime moment in your life when you see something so wonderful, so terrifically glorious that you stare and blink, then DROOL!
That just happened to me this afternoon when I stumbled across the notation on THE STANHOPE CHALLENGE page on AMAZON that I am #59 on their Top 100 Historical Authors list!
I could barely speak. Jaw worked. No sound came out. Had to read. Re-read.
Grateful.
Squealingly happy. Yeah, I know that squealingly is NOT a word, but you get me!
Above me at #58? Georgette Heyer. So you know, I was TOTALLY blown. Like totally.
And wow, am I really thanking all of you who put me up there. Working on my next Regency Romp and ready to do the Cover Reveal for #3, MASQUERADE WITH A MARQUESS, starring Victor Cameron.
Tomorrow!
Return for that...and him!
Yum.
AND THANKS AGAIN for loving my novels.
I am honored.

Monday, November 17, 2014

Bet you didn't know that Malmaison means Bad House. Who named it that? Not Josephine Bonaparte. Not Napoleon, either.

The Vikings!

Yes. They used to raid and hunt in the forests around town of Malmaison-Rueil and the French named the area the Bad House or Bad Area because no one should be caught there.

That, my friends, is one tidbit I learned on my recent 2 week trip to France. On the day hubby and I took the RER to Rueil, the sun was gloriously shining and the temperature hovered in the mid-60s. We walked from the train station, turned down an offer of a cabbie to drive us to Josephine's house and hoofed it toward the south east part of the town. Two miles later, we looked around and said, as we often did, we're hungry. We decided on a FAB.U.LOUS cafe in the center of town and ordered two champagnes (cuz tourists get thirsty) and our luncheon. Here, (yes, I want you to drool), I had a marvelous French onion soup and a hamburger with frites.

A pillar in the entry.

Onward!

The house is in pristine condition, saved by the French at the behest of Josephine herself. When she died in 1814, she bequeathed the house and all its contents to her son, Eugene who was to keep it in trust for the State of France. For the most part, his descendants were able to do that and the result is this truly enjoyable house.

Yes, as hubby agreed, it is a home. Comfortable and colorful and rich, the house is a marvelous representation of Josephine's taste. I have pictures galore and will share the best.

Here you see detail from a pillar in the entryway. When Josephine bought the house, as ever, she was in need of funds. She wanted to make the house look grand, especially because Napoleon had just waged his Egyptian Campaign. She wished to welcome him with symbols of that and so when she had the entryway reconstructed for his return, she asked for marble pillars. But she had not the money for marble. The pillars are therefore stucco and painted to appear as if they are marble. This decoration recalls the Egyptian influence atop the faux marble!

Here is the glory of Josephine's Music Room where she entertained and had others do so as well! More picturesof this in Part 2 of her house.

Throughout the house, color and textures are vibrant. Most of the furniture is original to the house or was brought from other homes Josephine shared with Napoleon. The effect is dramatic and comforting. Also throughout are representations of Napoleon in various forms. In sculpture and painting, this house where he lived with Josephine from approximately 1798 until he became emperor is filled with his presence.

A marble bust of Napoleon in a side stairway!

Oil by David of Napoleon Crossing the Alps in a room with many of his swords and uniforms.

Oil of Napoleon celebrating the Italian Campaign.

Josephine's gardens, most famous for her roses, were in bloom when we visited. Though it was mid-October, the gardeners had done their work and we were treated to glorious blooms.

All of these pictures are mine, FYI, so if you take any to use, please credit me as Cerise DeLand.
Thank you and return for more of the joy of Josephine's house in a few days!

Jill
Kennedy has plans for a Christmas wedding. She's put down deposits for the
flowers, photos, and venue. Now all she needs is a groom. A drummer who'll keep
her life as steady as he keeps the beat to his music. With her good friend
Charlie Costello as her wingman, she'll interview percussionists, one per month
until she finds the right tempo. But with Christmas approaching and no groom in
sight, she's starting to wonder if she'll ever bang the drummer of her dreams.

Excerpt:

Jill Kennedy curled up on
her couch studying her iPad, frowning. Her Christmas tree still twinkled in the
corner although the holiday was long past. Coldplay’s latest CD bumped its
tunes out from her iPod docking station. The last of her Christmas candles
flicked in glass holders on the coffee table, filling the room with the scent
of pine and cranberry. She should be feeling mellow, but instead her nerves
were jumping and a headache was creeping slowly up from the nape of her neck.

Charlie Costello lounged
next to her, sock feet resting on her coffee table, his hands tapping a steady
rhythm on his thighs in time to the song.

Jill tucked a strand of
her shoulder-length sable-colored hair behind her ear as she studied the
information on the iPad screen.

“I think I’ve got
everything taken care of. Booked the Creekside Winery. Ordered the decorations.
Set up a tasting for the food and Stella’s designing the wedding cake.” She
glanced up at Charlie. “Why are you looking at me in that strange way?”

He gave her his familiar
lop-sided grin. “You are the only woman I know who plans and pays for her
wedding without knowing who the groom is.”

She flipped a hand at
him. “I’ll have one by then. It’s in the plan. You know.”

He threw back his head and
laughed. “Yeah, I love your interview process. You aren’t even dating anyone
right now.”

“Because look how poor my
choices were in that arena, right?”

He snorted. “So this is
better? Tell me how?”

Jill pulled up another
memo on her iPad. “Okay. I have a list.”

“A list? This I gotta
hear. Lay it on me.”

If she didn’t need his help so badly,
she would have smacked him. “It’s very specific. I asked around about different
drummers in different bands and narrowed it down to the twelve most likely
prospects. You know. Twelve drummers drumming, for Christmas.”

“Like a grocery list,” he
teased.

“No, Charlie.” Damn him! “Like an interview process for
a job.”

“Is that what this is,
kitten? A job?”

“It’s a lifetime
commitment,” she sniffed. She wished he’d just let her get on with this. All
these questions were making her have tiny doubts about the wisdom of her
decision. She gave herself a mental shake. “I’ll do one a month until I hit on
the right one. The exact right one. First I check out their musical talent and
their band history.”

Charlie gave a roar of
laughter. “Because that’s such a requirement for stability?”

“Because it has to be a
drummer so I need his performance history,” she snapped.

“Maybe it’s a different
kind of performance you should be worrying about.”

“That comes later. After
the phone calls and the coffee dates to see how he is in person and match our
likes and dislikes.”

“Coffee dates?” He cocked
an eyebrow. “Not even a romantic dinner?”

She wanted to sling the
iPad at him. “I’ve been that route, remember? The whole nine yards, and what
did I get? A bunch of losers. No, I’m doing this like a project for work. As a
systems analyst, she knew the importance of things being able to mesh on a
practical basis. ”

So you’re going to
interview these bozos and then—what?”

“Drummers,” she told him. “Interviewing drummers.”

He cocked his head. “And
that’s why?”

“I told you.” She blew
out a breath of exasperation. “Drummers have the best beat. The best tempo.
They’re the heart of the band.” She grinned. “And have the best rhythm in bed.”

Saturday, November 15, 2014

Fanning myself with my lace and pearl fan!!!! THE STANHOPE CHALLENGE box set is flying high! Thanks to all of you readers who adore a good Regency tale!
OMG!
I grope about for my smelling salts. I sit and tap my toes on Aunt Matilda's Aubusson rug. Can I dance alone in the parlor? Will she think me mad? Send me off to Bedlam?Fanning self.
I planned to look at all my pictures from my recent scrumptious trip to Paris and upload them to my computer. But gee, I may have to go sneak a cup of hubby's brandy.
I will be putting up good pix, you realize, don't you?
Of Malmaison. Swoon.
And Fountainebleau. Be still my heart.
Saint Chappelle. Oh my.
Chantilly. I am definitely using Chantilly in a story soon. Did you know that the Duc d'Aumale who was the last inhabitant, was brother to Charles X, last Bourbon king, donchaknow, and he fled to England with a to-die-for art collection.
So I have to use that, don't I?
tee hee.
You know I will!
THANK YOU (blazing big kisses) to all of you who are buying my books and loving them!sigh.Where is that brandy....

Friday, November 14, 2014

Sam is a naïve young man who arrives in Hollywood to escape his brutal
father. When the older, sophisticated Aaron rescues him, Sam discovers what it
means to fully surrender himself to another.
Eighteen year-old Sam Cunningham is used to living with lots of secrets.
He’s had to hide his true nature his entire life or else incur the wrath of his
strict and abusive father. When he’s faced with a horrible ultimatum, he flees
to Hollywood where he hopes he can escape the fate his father has planned for
him.
Aaron Rubenstein is a wealthy and sophisticated man who loses himself in
painting portraits of bound men to help stave off his loneliness and despair.
Unable to find a lasting connection with anyone, he’s had to resort to paying
lovers not only for their affections, but to be allowed to indulge in his
darker passions. Aaron’s only respite is his nights at the Hampton Road
sadomasochism club where he’s a respected Dominant.
Naïve and inexperienced in the ways men can please one another, Sam takes a
job at a bathhouse where he first glimpses a beautiful older man. Aaron notices
the sweet towel boy watching him with interest every time he patronizes the
Temple of Eros bathhouse. A traumatic incident for the innocent towel boy
triggers Aaron’s protective tendencies and he’s compelled to rescue the gentle
Sam from the clutches of the Temple’s manager.
They embark on a journey together that teaches them both things about themselves
that they never knew. As their bond deepens and Sam is trained for his first
night at the Hampton Road Club, an unknown danger lurks. Will Sam’s father find
him and destroy both men’s chance for true happiness together? Or will Aaron
protect his boy and keep him for always?Reader Advisory: This book contains a scene of branding.

The boy
stirred again, and this time his lids fluttered open. He appeared confused then
frightened as he peered up at Aaron. There was an immediate tension in his
body.

“Ah, you’re
back with us.” Aaron smiled in reassurance. “Can you sit up?”

The only
response Aaron received was a continued stare from the large doe-like eyes of
the obviously terrified towel boy. His beautiful aquamarine eyes…

“Come on now.
Saul’s gone to get some help…”

Aaron frowned
as the young man trembled and shook his head, still seemingly unable to speak.
His head lolled to the side and Aaron feared he might pass out once more. It
had to be the heat of the room. Aaron pressed his hand lightly to his chest.

“Breathe.
You’ll make yourself faint again. How can I find out your name if you do that?”

A whoosh of
air came from the boy and he gulped in more. He exhaled forcefully again and in
and out until his breathing became regular.

“There we
are, much better. Let’s get you out of this dreadful heat.”

Aaron rose
gracefully to his feet, dragging his charge along with him. He resisted and
Aaron paused. It would have been no effort to force the boy to go where Aaron
wanted, but he had no interest in doing that. There was obviously something
that the young man was very upset about and Aaron was determined to find out
what it was without frightening him any further.

“S-sir, wait.
I need to get you a towel to cover yourself.”

This is what’s bothering him?

It seemed
unlikely, but Aaron was willing to tread carefully with him until he calmed
down some more.

“I’m sure all
the patrons of this purportedly elegant bathhouse have seen one or two danglers
in their time, so don’t fret upon my account.”

Aaron had his
arm around the skinny little thing and once again advanced them toward the door
of the steam room.

“Are…are you
taking me to a private room?”

The trembling
and tension increased and a realization slammed into Aaron. The boy was a
terrible actor and his purity was genuine. Aaron stopped and angled the young
man’s body to face him, holding one shoulder to keep him there. Grasping his
chin gently and raising it, Aaron waited until the boy’s eyes met his own.

“Is that what
you think? That I want to pay you for your sexual favors?”

Watching in
dismay as he nodded, his lip quivering, Aaron wondered if any jury would really
mind all that much if Aaron strung up the bathhouse manager. The act would have to be a service to society,
after all.

“That’s not
going to happen, understand? You’re not going to do anything you don’t want to
do and I’m not going to molest you in any way. But I must insist we leave this
room. The temperature is beginning to get to me as well.”

The door
opened and Saul entered along with the hostile looking manager. Aaron bent down
to whisper in the young man’s ear.

“Trust me.”

Incredibly,
the boy completely relaxed and moved closer to his side. The manager gave the
towel boy a quick glare before turning to Aaron.

“Mr
Rubenstein, I do apologize. I don’t know what’s gotten into him. Get away from Mr
Rubenstein. You’re fired.”

Aaron felt
the boy buckle and Aaron clutched him tightly to his body so that he wouldn’t
collapse again.

“Such a
shame. And here I was looking forward to his company this afternoon.”

The manager
arched his eyebrows and straightened up. “Oh, beg pardon. Of course.” He lifted
the corners of his mouth into a gruesome fake grin. “Whatever pleases you,
sir.”

“Excellent.
Right now it would please me to escape the suffocating heat of this room.”

The manager
gestured for them to go ahead and as he passed Saul, he noted the narrowing of
his eyes. Saul knew him well enough to know that Aaron never hired the young
boys at the bathhouse. Once they’d exited, Aaron turned to the manager, his arm
still loosely draped around the towel boy’s shoulder.

“I would like
the nicest room you have, along with some seltzer water. Is there any fruit
available? I’m wrung dry.”

“Absolutely, Mr
Rubenstein. Will Mr Liebowitz be joining you both?”

“Not today,
I’m afraid. I want this delectable creature all to myself.” Aaron regarded Saul
and gave him a wink, the action hidden from the manager’s view. “Another time,
perhaps?”

Saul snorted
then seemed to regain his composure. “Ah, well. I suppose I’m being given the
bum’s rush then, eh?” Saul gestured to the towel wrapped around his hips. “If
you will all excuse me, I do believe I’ll change into some grander duds and be
on my way.”

Aaron
acknowledged Saul again then turned back to the detestable manager.

Need nibbles of my Stanhope men in action? Of
course you do! Here is LORD STANHOPE's IMPROPER PROPOSAL!

The Stanhope Challenge, Book 1

Lord Adam Stanhope faces the Stanhope Challenge of wanting to
marry…and knowing it will be loveless. But he takes one look at
his childhood friend, now a lovely widow, and proposes a marriage in name only.
But when he learns that his bride is determined to be his lover as well as his
wife, he faces a bigger challenge: Accept her delicious offer to delight them
both in bed or spend his life in a greater torment…alone.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

And the taste?

Excerpt Copyright
2014, Cerise DeLand, All rights reserved.

London, January 1809

It is a truth,
universally accepted, that a politician in want of the premiership must also be
in want of a wife.

Felice knew that was
her new husband’s justification for marrying her so quickly.

“A reason as good as
my own,” she told herself as she combed her hair back from her face and fluffed
the ruffled bodice of her wedding dress. She pursed her lips, wondering how
Adam really kissed a woman. How he kissed his mistresses. He had merely brushed
her own mouth with his after the ceremony minutes ago. She’d always thought her
lips worth more than a peck—and she was determined that this second husband of
hers would do more than ignore her.

“I’ll insure that he
does,” she resolved, with a check of her figure in the cheval mirror in the
retiring room of her new brother-in-law’s mansion on Grosvenor Square. “After
all, the fictitious Miss Proper has charms that Adam does not know about.” Nor
should he!

That secret could ruin
her marriage. “And I intend to keep both!”

So go to your wedding
breakfast and be done with this mooning! You accepted his proposal! Now reap
the rewards! London Society is open to you—the excitement of their lives, their
intrigues ready fodder for your pen. For your romances and your poems.

She frowned at
herself.

Be honest, Fee. You
want more than inspiration for your stories. More than a means to repay that
nefarious man your first husband’s debt. You want Adam Stanhope gracing your
own bed, not just his look alike walking on the pages of your newest romance.
You want him inside your body. Making you wet and warm. And kissing your—

A quick knock at the
door had her whirling.

“Dear Felice,” cooed
her husband’s Great Aunt Amaryllis from behind the portal. “Do come out now. We
are quite eager to applaud you and Adam. The guests, too, are clamoring for the
receiving line!”

Most likely, the men
want more wine while they make wagers on how soon Adam will bed me. And the
women? They want to assess how a country mouse like me managed to snare the
renowned, rich and eloquent Adam Stanhope. Third son of the earl. Widower.
Father. Some day soon, the head of his party, if the papers and broadsheets are
to be believed. And thereafter certainly, Prime Minister.

“Adam Stanhope,” she
murmured to herself. “A great catch, Fee. If you can intrigue him.”

And there was the rub.

Adam, now thirty, was
notorious for outlandish behavior. When he’d turned seventeen, he’d run away
from home and sailed to Hong Kong to work with his cousin in his Far Eastern
trading company. Four years later, he’d come home to finish his education at
Cambridge, marry the beauty of the Season and run for Parliament. He’d won
twice now. But since his wife had died in childbirth, Adam had made a name for
himself as a rake. He was just like his brothers in that regard. Still, he was
the only one who had married and challenged the Stanhope family curse. For it
was a legend that no matter whom a Stanhope married, no matter that person’s
quality of character or breeding or good intentions, once wedded, a Stanhope
lived in hell.

“I will be happy.”
Felice repeated the phrase that had become her motto ever since Adam had
appeared in Kent last month and proposed. “I’ll dispense with this hideous man
plaguing me at once. Then I will devote myself to ensuring Adam is happy. I
will be a social asset to him. And a good mother to his son.”

What more could a man
ask for?

* * * *

“A politician has to
have a wife! Who the devil put that ridiculous rule about, Reggie?” Adam
Stanhope asked his friend as he paced in his brother Jack’s drawing room at
eleven in the morning. He threw back another shot of Jack’s fine brandy and
coughed. “Oh, lord, that burns all the way down. Whose idea was it to stay out
all night, eh?” He scrubbed his hand over his face, acknowledging his
predicament had less to do with excess alcohol than with Fee Wentworth. Correction,
Stanhope. “Dammit, you’d think a respectable widower with an heir earned the
right to be free!”

“No help for it, old
man,” Reggie responded and drained his glass of spirits. “Damn good stuff, if I
say so myself! But see here, Adam, you admitted you need her. We’ve been
through this entire argument before. You’ve got a bit of a reputation, courtesy
of that Miss Proper ramblings and—”

The far door burst
open. Adam’s oldest brother, Jack, appeared in all his dark imperious hauteur.
He took one look at both men and slipped inside to shut the world out. “Now,
Adam. Reggie. What the hell are you doing in here drinking?”

Adam cocked a long
black brow at the man who expected to be obeyed in all things. “Drowning my
sorrows.”

“Too late for that!”
Jack’s mouth twitched in a grin. “Get the hell out here and let’s toast the
good health of the bride and groom.”

“Come, come, Jack, you
know what this means for me.”

Jack’s black brows
arched high. “Oh, I do. One look at your bride and I have a very good idea
that—”

Adam scowled at his
brother. “She’s lovely.” Damned gorgeous, in fact. And mine, god help me now.
“But I have ruined her.”

Jack startled. “You’ve
had her? Already?”

“No, no. That’s not
what I mean.”

Jack strode over to
remove the snifter glass from Adam’s fingertips. “I know what you mean. And
this does not help.”

“I’ve known her since
she was ten, Jack!” Adam thrust out a hand, roiled by what he had just done to
this sweet, shy woman.

“And? She was a
charming child then. Now you have—“

“Wrecked her life!
That’s what I’ve done!”

Jack narrowed his eyes
on his brother. “How late did you stay at White’s last night?”

When Adam said “Ba!”
and shook his head, Jack peered at Reggie. “How late?”

The man winced and
brushed imaginary crumbs from his cravat. “Five. Six. Not certain. We were
winning at dice, you see, and couldn’t leave.”

Jack stared at the
ceiling. “I hope to god it was profitable.”

Adam grinned. “Five
thousand in my pockets I hadn’t had before!”

The far door opened
again. An auburn-haired man stuck his head in and grimaced. “What the hell is
the delay here?”

Jack beckoned him.
“Wes, Adam is having a rather belated moment of introspection. Do come in and
help me talk sense into our youngest brother.”

Wes took a step inside
and shut the door behind him. In his cavalryman’s dress blues, he leaned back
against the door. “What’s the matter, Adam? Nerves?”

“That,” Wes chuckled
as he limped over to the chair beside Adam and fell into it, “is before a man
goes into battle!”

“Well, I am!”

Wes gave him the
quelling glance his men termed The Demand. “You are married.”

“I know I thought it a
good idea. Despite the nightmare I lived through with Sarah.” The mere mention
of his first wife sent a wave of revulsion through him. “Everyone thought it a
good idea. My colleagues. The Prime Minister. But you both, most of all, know
this won’t work.”

Wes pursed his lips.
“I’ve seen your new lady wife, and I say give it a go. If you admit defeat
before you start, you’re doomed.”

“This is not a cavalry
charge,” Adam murmured.

Wes shrugged. “Perhaps
it should be.”

“Wes, have a little
pity,” Adam pleaded, his head splitting from too much whiskey and too little
sleep.

“No pity for you,” Wes
shot back. “Felice lives up to her name in temperament as far as I can tell.
And her figure, Adam, has certainly become more alluring than when I last saw
her in Great Aunt Amaryllis’ garden.”

“She was ten!”

“Was she, now? Hmm. No
wonder she was flat-chested.”

“Now see here,” Adam
admonished his older brother. “Her figure is—”

“Superb and yours to
explore.” Wes wiggled his brows suggestively, then looked at Jack. “We met her
when we first summered at Aunt’s house. What year was it Father foisted us off
on the poor old gel?”

Adam groaned. “It
doesn’t matter!”

I liked her then.
Enjoyed her wit and intelligence every time we met. Now I’ve gone and hurt her
irrevocably.

Jack shook his head.
“Don’t argue with him, Wes. He’s got a snoot full from an all-night gambling
rout at White’s. It only encourages him to debate you. And neither of us can
ever outtalk him.” He gave his brother, the Colonel and Man of Action, a
wide-eyed look of despair. “The curse is upon him.”

“Oh, hell,” Wes
mourned. “Not that again.”

Adam frowned at both
of his brothers. “That again? I don’t seem to recall that either of you is yet
married. Why not?”

“Not our time,” Jack
told him.

“No woman I like
enough,” Wes added. “You, Jack?”

“None I cannot live
without,” Jack said with pointed disdain for the subject. “Come on, Adam, let’s
do our drinking out there with all the others.”

“They all wonder, you
know,” Adam offered, his gaze on the door.

“What?” Reggie asked
when the two Stanhope brothers didn’t respond to him.

All three Stanhopes
considered Reggie Mortenson with bleak expressions.

Adam answered for them
all. “They wonder when Felice will leave me. As we speak, they are out there
taking wagers on the number of months she remains.”

“The Stanhope women
don’t all leave,” Jack reminded Adam.

The three brothers
winced and looked at anything but each other. Adam knew each man thought of his
own mother and how each had died in succession. And even though Jack’s mother
passed away after a riding accident, Wes’s died of consumption and Adam’s of
childbed fever, the ton declared each woman had suffered first and foremost
from a broken heart.

“He says he loved each
one,” Jack reminded them of the phrase their father repeated to them often.

Adam shut his eyes.
“He declares he loved Clarice’s mother, too!” Their charming half-sister Clarice
had been Stanhope’s by-blow, conveniently born between Jack and Wes.

“Aye,” Wes
acknowledged with a smirk. “In his prime, the man was a walking satyr.”

Jack inclined his head
toward Wes. “Astonishing, isn’t it, that he managed his estates as well as he
did, hopping from bed to bed like a right royal degenerate.” He flourished a
hand. “Yet, he cared for each woman he bedded.”

Adam growled. “How can
you believe him?” He had never known their father to be honest with anyone,
least of all his three legitimate sons. “You were four,” Adam reminded Jack,
then faced Wes. “And you were two when I was born and my mother took a childbed
fever. How can you know that he tells the truth?”

Jack rolled a
shoulder. “Perhaps on this one issue…”

Adam
shook his head, hands fisted on his hips. “I long to see the day each of you
faces a woman whom you do not wish to kill with the family curse.” He
straightened his cravat and ran two hands through his hair. “Open the damn
door, Wesley, I’m ready to claim my bride and ruin both our lives.”